


If You Can Meet with Triumph and Disaster

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, Mild Language, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 18:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2632226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Europa is at war, and Sir Ardsley Wooster is hastily recalled to England, while a General is sent to assist Baron Gilgamesh Wulfenbach in his place.  Now he sits and reflects in the peace and quiet of his country home; and, while honours he had never expected intertwine in his mind with personal tragedy, he receives a Christmas card... from the one person who still calls him, simply, Mr Wooster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Can Meet with Triumph and Disaster

For the first time in my life, I am about to host a family Christmas.

Father and Aunt Emmeline will be arriving tomorrow; they are both elderly now and it is a long journey for them, so they will be staying longer than the others. I do not think either of them likes the fact that I have chosen to settle in the north, but that was really Harriet's doing. She and her husband Pradhi have been living in Kendal for a little while now, and when this house came up for sale at about the time I returned to England, she persuaded me to come and look at it; and it is, indeed, very suitable. I have grown fond of it already. It is Blackrigg Hall, near Heversham, which is a quiet village a few miles from Kendal. I am sitting in the library writing this, looking out of the window towards the fells, which today are muted by a gentle mist. Outside, in the grounds, a blackbird is perched atop a stone fountain, trilling its lovely liquid notes into the damp air.

My brother and his family will be joining us next, and then Pradhi's sister Lakshmi, who is studying here in England at the moment. She is not coping with our climate well at all, so I have ordered a fire in her room at all times while she is staying, so that she will always have somewhere to go that she knows will be warm enough for her. Harriet and Pradhi, being within an easy carriage ride, will not be joining us until Christmas Eve, when Harriet has promised to help me put up the tree and the rest of the decorations. Then we shall attend the midnight service, though Pradhi and Lakshmi need not join us if they prefer not to do so; they are Hindu, and I would not force it on them.

I have become a regular churchgoer myself since I moved here. I struggled with that a little until I was clear in my own mind that I was going because I truly wished to do so, not merely because it is expected of the local landowner. If it were simply for that reason, I would not go. There are many other expectations I can meet with a clear conscience. But now, it is settled on this one. I cannot fully explain what I seek in church; nonetheless, I am aware that I do seek.

Yes, we shall all be here for Christmas, three generations of Woosters. But not, alas, my wife.

No, not my wife. Her steps have never graced the oak-panelled corridors of this fine old stone house, and her laugh has never echoed on the stairs. My daughters have no mother now, though at least I am thankful that they do have a nurse, the truly excellent Miss Drummond. She goes a great way to filling that void for them.

She does not do so for me. But that is hardly her fault.

When the war began, we were in the middle of it. It was a sultry day at the beginning of August, and I was in my office at the British Embassy writing dispatches. The door burst open, and I knew immediately that something must be very wrong, since normally everyone was in the habit of knocking politely.

It was Miss Kemp, one of my senior assistants. “Your Excellency,” she said. “We must evacuate the embassy now. Baron Wulfenbach has sent an airship. There is an enemy fleet approaching.”

I rose hastily to my feet. I did not need to ask who the enemy was; Gil and I were well aware that Queen Ewa of Poland had allied herself with Martellus von Blitzengaard. We had not expected them to strike quite so soon, but Gil would be ready nonetheless. “I will fetch my daughters,” I said.

“No, Your Excellency, you will not. Miss Drummond will do that.” She grabbed my arm. “You know Queen Ewa has a personal grudge against you. They will bomb the whole town, but they will make very sure they bomb this embassy. Now, run!” And she ran, dragging me after her.

Gil's airship was waiting for us outside, hovering a little way above the ground; the other embassies were also being evacuated, and I saw my friend Pavel Ivanovich Kuchtanin, the Russian Ambassador, scrambling as fast as he could up one of the ladders that had been thrown down to us. Miss Kemp pushed me up after him, then followed herself. There were other Wulfenbach airships too, helping to evacuate the rest of the town. Where Gil would fit everyone I was not sure, but Castle Wulfenbach is huge, and it has a large flotilla of supporting airships.

Miss Drummond was already on board, the two girls wide-eyed and clutching at her skirts. “Where is my wife?” I asked, anxiously.

“Her Ladyship is following,” said Miss Drummond. She is always pale, being a red-haired Scot, but she was paler than normal at that moment.

“Following? Why? Why didn't she come with you?” I fought back the rising panic.

“She went to find the wee dog, Your Excellency.” Miss Drummond looked abjectly miserable. “I couldn't stop her.”

Oh. The wee dog. A little terrier, my wife's latest fancy. I had never much liked the animal, but if it turned out to be the death of her, I knew I would never forgive it. I ran back to the entrance, or tried to. Miss Kemp hauled me back by the shoulders. Previously she had always been a model of polite diplomacy, but I was seeing a new side of her today; I had had no idea how strong she was, for a start. As she grabbed me, the airship rocked.

“Stay away from the entrance, you idiot!” she barked. “We're under fire.”

“But my wife...”

She spun me round to face her. “Sir Ardsley. If I could think of any way to save her, believe me, I would be about it. Right now, neither you nor I can do anything, and if you go out there trying to save her, all you will end up doing is dying yourself. _On behalf of Her Undying Majesty_ , I will not let you do that.”

I nodded mutely. There was really nothing else I could do.

That was when the bombs started to fall.

I don't remember much of what happened for a while. I have vague recollections of Miss Drummond assuring me that she would take care of the girls “until you're yoursel' again, Your Excellency,” and Miss Kemp steering me off somewhere, sitting me down and supplying me with tea. We must have taken off at some point, although Gil assures me that the ship stayed near the ground as long as it possibly could to collect all the last remaining stragglers. But when we reached the safety of Castle Wulfenbach, my wife was still not aboard.

Miss Kemp continued to steer me. This time, it was towards Gil, who took one look at me and did something he has never done before, nor, I imagine, will again. He embraced me.

Neither of us said anything for a few moments, and then we disengaged and I sat down heavily. “I... will do anything I can to help,” I said.

“No, you won't, Ardsley,” he replied. “You're painfully brave, but you're going home. I've already had a message to say you're to be recalled. You've done a wonderful job here, but you're not a soldier. You're a diplomat. England will be sending a general in your place.”

“That... was quick,” I managed. I glanced at Miss Kemp.

“Yes, Sir Ardsley,” she confirmed quietly. “I was informed that you would be recalled if war broke out. I was told not to tell you unless and until it happened. It was known that you would object. Be assured, you are being recalled with all honour.”

“I see,” I said. “Permanently, or for the duration of the war?”

“Only for the duration of the war,” she replied.

Gil grinned in a way that was almost a snarl. “Therefore, you can take it for granted that I intend to make this war as short and conclusive as possible. I've sent messages to Agatha and the Storm King. They will be joining us as soon as they can, and probably, especially in Tarvek's case, sooner than expected. And, of course, in Tarvek's case, it's partly a family squabble, which should make things very interesting.”

“Yes, I'm well aware that he has never got on with his cousin,” I said.

“It's one of the few things I have in common with the little weasel,” said Gil. “Nonetheless... the little weasel makes a damn good ally, I'll say that.”

“I hope I get the chance to say goodbye to the Lady Heterodyne before I am recalled,” I said.

“I doubt you will, unless you're very lucky,” Gil admitted. “I think the British airship will get here before Agatha does. They want you out, and quickly.”

“Where is Tsar Arkadii in all this?” I enquired.

“Doing nothing, just at the moment, as far as I'm aware,” replied Gil. “But there'll be a very good reason for that. He won't come in on Queen Ewa's side; there is no doubt at all about that. It remains to be seen whether he'll come in on ours.”

“I wouldn't have expected him to hesitate,” I said.

“No, neither would I, but I think one or the other of them has some hold on him we don't know about. I'm investigating that.” He swung round on his heel. “But, for goodness' sake, Ardsley. Think about yourself for five minutes.”

“I'm holding myself together, Gil,” I admitted. “Talking about strategy helps with that.”

“You are allowed to fall apart for a while, you know, if you need to.” He looked at Miss Kemp. “Take him somewhere quiet, will you? Where he can do that if necessary. And, Ardsley, if there is anything at all you need that I can provide, just ask for it.”

“Thank you,” I murmured.

She led me off to one of the smallest lounges, ushered me inside, and told me that she would remain on guard outside the door, to be called if needed. I sank gratefully into a chair, and I did break down for a little while, now that I had the luxury of being alone. I was glad, afterwards, that I had. I felt exhausted but calmer, and the girls were going to need me soon. I could not help them through their grief if I had done nothing to deal with my own.

I do not know exactly how long I was alone in that room, but I do recall that I was half asleep in the chair when Miss Kemp tapped on the door. “Come in,” I called, automatically.

Miss Kemp's head appeared around it. “Lady Heterodyne, Your Excellency.”

I shook off my approaching slumber in an instant and jumped to my feet. “Lady Heterodyne! I had hoped to see you again before I left, but not expected it.”

“That's Agatha to you,” she said, firmly. Then her face changed. “I... I heard what happened. I am so sorry.”

“This is what happens when one makes enemies of royalty,” I replied, grimly.

“You didn't ask to,” she pointed out. “Gil says you're being recalled. We're both going to miss you, but I'm still glad you're going to be out of all this.”

“I shall miss all of you too,” I said. “And I'm sorry I can't be of any assistance. Though I'm not a general, I am a strategist.”

“You are, and a hell of a good one. But you've fought a lot of wars in other ways. You deserve to go home for some peace and quiet now.”

“Just when my friends are all going into the thick of battle?” I protested.

“Yes,” she said determinedly. “We can handle it. Along with your General, of course.” She smiled. “And it's thanks to you that we have your General, and all your fine British soldiers and air crews, alongside us. You did that. Don't go crawling home thinking you're a failure because war broke out. You couldn't have stopped it on your own, but you've done more than anyone else could have done to ensure we've got help to stop it now.”

“Last time war broke out,” I said, “they blamed me for it back home.”

The light glinted off the lenses of her spectacles. “I am pretty confident,” she said, “that this time you're going to find it's different. Very different.”

I remembered what Miss Kemp had said about being recalled with all honour. Yes, I thought. Perhaps I would.

We could have talked for longer, but then someone came running to say that the British airship had arrived, so we had to say our farewells quickly in the end. As we stepped out into the corridor...

“Dimo!” I exclaimed joyfully. “Maxim! Oggie! You're here!”

“Of course ve here,” said Dimo, with a massive grin. “Vhere else vould ve be?”

“Is it true hyu goink back to England, Mister Vooster?” said Oggie.

Maxim cuffed him. “How many times hy got to tell hyu, eediot? He iz not yust plain Mister Vooster now. He iz His Excellency Sir Ardsley Vooster.”

“Maxim, I don't care what Oggie calls me,” I insisted. “I'm just so pleased to see you chaps again before I have to leave. Yes, Oggie, it's true. I'm going right now, in fact.”

Dimo swept me off the floor in a massive bear hug, then – there is no other way of putting it – passed me round the other two like a parcel. “Hyu look after hyuself und come right back vhen hyu can,” he rumbled.

“I will,” I promised. “And you three, look after yourselves too, and don't get into any trouble you can't get straight out of.”

Maxim grinned. “Hyu know us vell,” he observed.

“I should hope I do, after all that time in the caves,” I said.

“Ho ja,” said Oggie. “Remember der cricket?”

“I will never forget the cricket,” I said, with some feeling.

“Sorry to hurry you, Your Excellency,” said Miss Kemp, “but they're waiting.”

“I know. I'm sorry,” I said. “Chaps – do, please, feel free to write. I'll send my address to Lady... er... to Agatha when I know what it is.”

“Hyu bet ve vill,” said Dimo. The last I heard of them, as I was whisked away up the corridor, was Oggie asking Maxim plaintively, “How hyu schpell Excellency?”

Oh, Oggie, I thought. I don't care. You spell it in whatever way you like. Even better, don't spell it at all. I know you still think of me as plain Mr Wooster, and that's all I really am, under all the diplomatic glitter.

But I was on the bridge of Castle Wulfenbach now, along with all the others who had been evacuated from the British Embassy, and there was General Dunsfold to take my place, straight-backed, heavily moustached and jangling with medals. He shook my hand warmly and nodded at Miss Kemp, and we exchanged a few words, though I really cannot recall what they were. I think I wished him good luck; it is, after all, the kind of thing that is appropriate at such a time. Then I shook hands with Gil one last time, and within a few minutes we were all filing along the docking tunnel to board the _HMS Boudicca_.

It was a rough journey, for a while. The Polish and von Blitzengaard forces tried to shoot us down, as you would no doubt expect. But the _Boudicca_ was a military airship, and she was well defended. We kept the shields up, returning fire only when it was completely safe to do so; and finally, once we were over the Channel, they gave up. They had other targets, and to continue to attack us would have pulled ships away from those.

I had a modest house in London, and that, naturally, was where I went when we landed. Miss Drummond was clearly still very worried about me, and persuaded Miss Kemp to accompany us. She did not take a great deal of persuasion. It is quite possible, looking back, that Miss Kemp knew that I have struggled with suicidal feelings for much of my life; as I grow older, I have become more open about that, although I had not told anyone at the Embassy outright. I had, however, had cause to tell certain people within the Intelligence Service, and she could well have found out in that way. Whatever she knew or did not know, it was quite obvious that she had been briefed to keep me alive and was carrying out her orders as conscientiously as anyone could ever have done. Certainly, when I went to bed on that first night back in England and reached for the gun I always carry in order to put it safely under my pillow, it was not there.

Nobody has ever taken my gun from me before without my knowledge. Even granted that my mental state was unusually fraught at the time, Miss Kemp, whatever she is, is astonishingly good.

My niece Harriet arrived in London the next day with the news about Blackrigg Hall. I agreed to go up to Westmorland with her and look at it, leaving the girls in London with Miss Drummond. Miss Kemp left us at that point, and I later found my gun lying on the desk in my study. I was fairly sure that if I had asked, Miss Drummond would have sworn blind that I had left it there myself in a fit of absent-mindedness, so I decided not to press the point. I think Miss Drummond and Miss Kemp are friends, or at least strong allies.

Well, I need not talk about Blackrigg Hall a great deal, since you are already aware that I am in it now; but, while I was still in the process of purchasing it, I received a summons to the Palace, for only the second time in my life. The first time, it was to receive a knighthood; I was perhaps eighth or ninth in a line of others being similarly honoured. But this time, Her Undying Majesty wished to see me alone. It was her gracious desire to confer upon me an earldom.

Lady Heterodyne – Agatha, that is – had been quite correct. Things were very different this time.

My memories of the ceremony itself are a little blurred. Her Undying Majesty Queen Albia is a formidable presence, and it is easy to be overawed by her, even when she is at her most kind and gracious. Yet I do recall one specific thing she said, for it was the reason why, when I finally left the Palace as the newly minted Earl of Heversham, I was surreptitiously wiping a tear from my eye.

It was such a simple thing for anyone to say. She merely said that she appreciated all my hard work. Said it, and very evidently meant it.

My superiors in the Intelligence Service never said that to me once; but then, I never expected them to do so. My hard work was what they paid me for, after all. It never occurred to me to expect to be appreciated as well. But now, my Queen had said it.

I value that more than the earldom.

Thankfully, I did not lose my composure altogether; I made a point of commending Miss Kemp to Her Undying Majesty for her courage and strength in the sudden crisis which had overtaken us. It seems I was heard, for I understand she is to appear in the New Year Honours List as Dame Lucilla Kemp. I had no idea that her name was Lucilla; it seems a rather delicate name, somehow, for such a strong and determined woman. Still, I am glad she has the recognition she truly deserves.

I sold the house in London. I have no need for it now, especially as the war looks like dragging on for longer than anyone had hoped. Tsar Arkadii is still officially neutral, although I have good reason to think that unofficially he is sending Gil and the allied forces what help he dares. We did discover the reason for that. Martellus von Blitzengaard has his grandmother, the Dowager Empress, as a hostage. While there is much bad blood between the Tsar and his grandmother, she is still family, and he will not let von Blitzengaard torture her to death. Yet that may cut two ways; she is old, and may die naturally at some point. If that happens, there will be nothing holding the Tsar back, and he will fall on von Blitzengaard first. Arkadii is a man who remembers small favours for life; but he also remembers small grudges, and this is not a small one.

And so, here I am: Ardsley, Lord Heversham, of all things. I still have to think about it when I sign my name. Yes, here I sit, in the library of my peaceful home amid the soft green Westmorland hills, thinking about my friends hundreds of miles away who are fighting a desperate war in which I can play no part.

And here, it seems, is my first Christmas card of the season. Well, I shall open it, for it is from abroad, and I believe I recognise the writing.

Ah, yes. I thought so. It is hand-drawn, not expertly, but still with evident care; a little picture of an angel. An angel with fangs and a big grin, but nonetheless clearly an angel. The greeting inside the card reads as follows: “MERY KRISMAS MISTER VOOSTER LUFF FROM OGGIE.”

And a very merry Christmas to you too, Oggie. May you celebrate with one hell of a good fight.


End file.
